


No, I Am Not as Others Are

by BlueCanto



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Horror, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3366818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCanto/pseuds/BlueCanto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A journey can be made even in the depth of sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The smooth slink of Jane's natural stride was disrupted by the rubble beneath her feet. She moved slowly as she navigated through the dusty haze, squinting and blinking furiously as she tried, unsuccessfully, to force her eyes to adjust to the gloom of her surroundings. With her arms extended, she clawed the air, desperate to find something or someone. Jane paused momentarily confused. She shook her head and a jumble of dark curls slung free from the band at the nape of her neck. Where was she and why was she alone? Jane couldn't remember. She could hear the rubble shifting and crumbling all around her. She shook her head again. A sort of dust was collecting itself in patches on the surface of her skin, in the tresses of her hair, the moist flesh inside her nose and exposed mud brown pools of her eyes. Jane scrunched her nose; there was a persistent smell that shifted with the breeze that she couldn't quite identify. She suppressed a sneeze as she moved further into the darkness, where the air was warm and grew warmer still.

Jane stopped abruptly and closed her eyes when a swirl of gritty air forced itself against her. For a few moments she stood rooted as she waited for the air to still. When she opened her eyes, she immediately looked to her left. There was something fixed far in the distance. It was a faint glow that broke through the gloom and gave her hope, a destination, and a goal.

Jane wheezed and released a shallow cough. Her breath quickened as she began to sweat profusely. It was hot, but Jane didn't care. She was mesmerized by the light, so captivated by its irregular flickers and how it shone brightly at first, withered, and grew back again, brighter than before. That was where Jane wanted to go. She needed to go to the light. And although Jane moved lethargically, she didn't despair. Jane knew that she could reach her goal, she would always reach her goal, and she would reach the light.

Something twisted and turned inside Jane's mind and a surge gathered in her chest and abdomen, and then spread throughout her body. Suddenly she found herself moving in a swift surefooted jog. That is, until she misstepped and fell into a rough embrace that left her scraped and bruised. Momentarily shocked, Jane's mind wandered. She marveled at the wet substance on the insides of her hands, the hands that broke the majority of her fall. She could feel pain. Curious, Jane sniffed her hands. The smell was familiar. Her tongue darted out impulsively. It was bitter. It was blood. Vertigo and a rush of fatigue overcame Jane and her eyes fluttered. The heat was unbearable. Jane ignored the many sensations that were overwhelming her and looked forward, into the light. She was much closer now. She needed to move.

Jane pushed herself up just enough to climb over all that was rough and tangled beneath her. She was almost there. The gloom of her surroundings began to brighten into a dull gray. Shadows began to dance playfully before her eyes. The gritty air that she felt before was now almost visible. Odd shaped silhouettes littered the air and floated to and fro. The rough and tangle beneath her began to emerge from the darkness and take shape as well. Jane could see now how it spread and weaved along the ground, half hidden under large slabs of what appeared to be earth and stone. There was a new sound that accompanied the shifting and crumbling, a strange cacophony, or a sort of roar that occasionally popped and whistled in low and high pitches.

The roar grew louder. Jane could hear and see a lot more than she did just moments before. And when she finally arrived, Jane was blinded by the light. She shielded her eyes as she slowly stood. The heat engulfed her and her breath hitched. She was shaken by and in awe of the illumination before her, of the amber glow, the large breeze blown flits of scarlet and the melodic sway of two closely twined trees aflame.

Jane felt her legs collapse, she felt her arms slacken, she felt all the fervor and excitements leave her body. Indeed, she had arrived. Jane could almost hear someone's laughter over the roar of the flame. When she realized that it was her own laughter, Jane froze completely, uttered a breathy curse, and fell flat on her back, knocking a small amount of wind from her body. Jane didn't know what to do, so she closed her eyes—defeated.

The air shifted and brought a welcome cool breeze; as well as, a sorrowful whisper that echoed above the roar. "I won't let you give up, Maura—never!"

Jane's eyes flew open. She found that she couldn't move her arms and legs, so she cried out, "Who's there?"

"I know you can hear me…"

The voice was lovely and familiar. Jane's vocal chords began to tighten and enflame. It was difficult to speak but she managed a strained shout, "Where are you? I know you. Why aren't you here with me?!"

"I'm right here."

There was an audible sigh that seemed to lessen the flames. A dark, inky hole opened before Jane's eyes and she could see what looked like partial legs and hooves. When it fully emerged, it was a massive form. It was the distorted figure of woman astride a dark horse.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane mused: she had a memory from her youth of a rider on a horse. That memory was now akin to an etching on a soft copper plate. All the fine details that were initially whole and beautiful, that were occasionally printed on the forefront of her mind, became a little altered, and a little less, until all its fineness was worn to virtually nothing. Jane doubted the veracity of such an old, fragmented memory that could so easily be embellished. A part of Jane knew that she rode horses in her youth; however, another part knew that she wouldn't have had the chance. Softly she muttered, "if only memories could be etched in some stronger metal…"

Jane frowned and took in small, slow breaths. She felt lost, confused, and drained of energy. Her eyes grew heavy and she felt as though she was being lulled to sleep by the sound of the flames. Jane tried to convince herself to keep her eyes open, but she began to realize that if she did close her eyes, just for little bit, maybe she could preserve something of herself. She was slipping away; she was sure.

An unexpected lengthy neigh and the loud stomp of angry hooves broke the languid ease that Jane had found herself sliding into. With her attention now captured, Jane wondered how she was ever distracted in the first place. She slightly opened her mouth only to realize that she was parched. It was excruciatingly hot.

Jane shifted her eyes to the right and a shudder racked her body. She could see the horse and rider begin to approach her. Fear crawled under Jane's skin before it arrested her lungs and fused her bones. If she thought that she could move from her position on the ground before, she knew that she couldn't now. Jane was frozen in place like a rabbit hiding from a hawk in the middle of a shrubless prairie with short grass. There was nowhere to hide, but if she stayed still, perhaps all threats would pass her by.

The sweat from Jane's brow trickled into her eyes and caused them to sting. She blinked furiously before settling into an unfocused squint that made her feel as if she were looking through a bitter and blurred glass. As the pain subsided, Jane discovered that there was a fascinating wrongness about the figures. They had a natural, yet fluctuating duality. At one moment they were tangible and intangible, malevolent and benevolent, unfamiliar and very familiar. They were a scale that teeter-tottered between something as banal as the struggle between good and evil, and something that was converted to grayscale; except, in actuality consisted of too much black, too little gray, and the absence of white. They were everything that you could hope for and everything that you could dread. Any willing or unwilling association would ultimately lead to regrets. This horse, and this rider, alarmed and reassured Jane.

The loud neigh of the horse once again startled Jane from her thoughts. She immediately focused her eyes on looming form. She was mesmerized. The horse was a massive and terrible sight to behold.

Its coat was blacker than the color of pitch, with a lackluster emerald sheen from the fire. Its long, tektite colored mane was wild with crimps and curls here, and stiff and soft strands there. Its eyes were like the viscous black fluid of tree tar and extremely large. They appeared to flicker a sickly, yellow ocher, or molten gold when it twisted its head. Its huge nostrils flared irritably and spewed great puffs of thick, black soot that materialized into tiny, deformed creatures. Each creature flitted about the air obtusely before they dissipated.

Jane thought it was strange that the horse was so anxious. What was there to be anxious about? Jane didn't know, but it danced in place amongst the crisp blackened leaves and shallow roots impatiently. The rider, the svelte shade, seemed unfazed by the movements of the horse. She sat eerily still, despite the swaying, rigid and in control. Her legs were fastened to the horse like a figurine cast from a single mold. The shade was featureless, and only recognizably feminine by the simple, long curved lines of her shape.

Still immobile and on her back, Jane tried her best to keep her eye on the woman as she swung herself from the horse the way sap burst from a tree. The shade dismounted so slowly that Jane felt as if she had blinked a million times before she heard two legs finally meet the ground with a soft crunch, followed by more crunching.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut. She knew that the shade was walking towards her—surveying her like a predator. Before she could assume the worst, Jane felt delightfully cool and feather light touches upon her cheeks, forehead, lips and hair. She shuddered and felt an instant chill spread and ripple throughout her body. "Relief," she thought. Somehow, a part of her fear ebbed and disappeared.

Jane's brow softened, and when she opened her eyes, she was taken aback. The face—mere inches from her own—was a kaleidoscope of color. It swelled, twisted, and finally burst into bits of color that almost created facial features: a nostril, an eyelid, an upper lip, and curiously both eyebrows. A moment later, the patterns began to blend into smooth, tanned skin, with two dark brown eyes, thin, dusty rose colored lips, long eyelashes, and thick, black brows.

Jane was delighted when she gazed upon the face of the woman before her. It looked like her face—no, Jane's face. Jane was before her with crescent shaped eyes and the softest of smiles upon her lips. Maura loved that rare smile.

Maura?

Like a phoenix bursting spontaneously into flames, or the last beautiful lament of a dying swan, the fire erupted in a flurry, and swiftly began to turn everything into dust.

She felt her skin shrivel, her heart race, and her tongue swell as everything began to rapidly burn. One last thought before then end and all that she could think was, "Am I—?"

The horse reared, neighed thrice, and the fire went out.


	3. Chapter 3

The shrill sound of her voice was foreign to her as she screamed and eliminated the whole of her breath. She was hysterical—she knew that. She wasn't surprised to find her body trembling.

As she sat up, she brought her legs to her chest, rested her head atop her knees, and tried to force as much air as she could into her lungs. She couldn't possibly tell where she was, it was still so dark. She tightened the grip on her legs as she realized that might still be there, that she might have burned, that she might be...she didn't want to think about that.

Maura lifted her head. It was too dark. She couldn't see anything, so she thought about the last thing she saw before everything burned. She saw Jane, she was sure of it. Perhaps Jane was still with her? Perhaps they burned together? The thought of Jane being beside her, no matter the circumstances, calmed Maura.

Maura sighed and released the tension from her body. She crossed her arms over her chest and was shocked to find damp clothes and damp skin. Suddenly, like a flower blooming spontaneously at the touches of spring, realization fostered itself and began to bloom in the depths of Maura's mind. Maura did know where she was. She was floating on a familiar soft cloud, a cloud made of silk, goose feathers and Egyptian cotton. A small smile began to touch the edges of her mouth. She could feel the sheets and the comforting warmth that they brought. Maura knew that she would be okay. Wouldn't she?

Maura sat and reassured herself by patting her sheets over and over until she was unexpectedly grabbed and shaken violently.

The lights came on.

"Jane," Maura said softly. "Please, stop shaking me."

"I wouldn't have had to shake you, Maura, if you hadn't gone all vaso-bagel. You scared me. What's going on?" Jane stroked Maura's arms a few times before she stopped, looked down at her hands, and rubbed her fingers together.

Confused Maura replied, "Vasovagal syncope. Jane, I assure you that wasn't the case. I do believe that I've just experienced a nightmare."

"A nightmare, Maur?" Jane confirmed as she lifted from the bed and collected new pajamas for Maura.

"Yes, I've had them before, mainly about chromobacterium violaceum, but this time, that wasn't the case. It was quite frightening and fascinating…I wasn't me, I was you, but I was me, as you, but you—"

Jane snorted as she threw the pajamas in front of Maura, "Okay. Let me get this straight…You had a dream that you were me, and you're calling that a nightmare? Well gee Maur, it's so nice to hear that being me is such a nightmare for you!" Jane made few overdramatic gestures with her hands and flopped onto her side of the bed.

"That wasn't the part that frightened me," Maura explained as she shifted away from Jane and walked towards the bathroom. "It was dark and there was a horse…"

"Wait. Stop. How about I just do for you, what you've done for me when, you know, I have those nightmares about—"

"About Hoyt?"

As Maura entered the bathroom, she could feel Jane rolling her eyes, "Yes, Maura, about Hoyt."

After a moment Maura emerged shaking her head, "Nightmares are unpleasant for everyone. They can evoke a variety of strong emotional responses. Did you know that although more children suffer from nightmares than adults, there have been studies that show between roughly two and eight percent of the adult population suffers from vivid nightmares? The negative emotions induced by nightmares can cause acute sleep deprivation, well, depending on frequency, and also due to the fact that—"

Maura was at the edge of the bed when Jane pulled her forward. "I don't care." She said. "I'm too tired for this. Just lay here and get hugged. It works. There's no need to talk about dark My Little Pony or your little fun facts."

Slightly dissatisfied, Maura wasn't able to completely relax into Jane's embrace. "Lie here…Nightmares mainly occur during rapid eye movement sleep."

Jane huffed, "You just had to finish, didn't you? Uh, you know, most people say REM, and most other people actually know what they're talking about."

Maura felt emboldened by Jane's retort and wanted to frustrate her a little. She pressed her lips into a tight smile as she twisted in Jane's arms and continued to twist. Despite Jane's somewhat uncharacteristic insensitivity about her emotional state after her nightmare, Maura still felt safe, comforted, fearless, and more importantly, not alone.

"God, come on, Maura, quit squirming around. You're worse than Jo Friday when she sneaks into my bed." Jane gave Maura a tight squeeze, "I know what you're doing, and I also know that you desperately need some sleep. We both do. Just relax and stop with the tossing and turning."

"I was not tossing and turning as you put it. I—" Maura paused and thought for a moment, "You're absolutely correct, Jane. I should attempt to sleep. Interruption during REM is very—"

Jane squeezed Maura tightly and rolled her to Jane's side of the bed. "Ah, stop! Please!" Jane whined as she reached to turn off the light but hesitated. Her hand hovered over the chain. Maura studied the tiny muscle movements in Jane's face as she contemplated. Once Jane had decided, and turned towards Maura, she pretended that she hadn't been staring.

She left the light on.

Maura appreciated the gesture and smiled to herself. She moved closer to Jane and closed her eyes; she could smell Jane's hair.

Wake up!

"Wake up? Jane, I thought you wanted me to sleep." Maura untangled herself and sat up. Jane appeared to be feigning sleep.

Just as Maura was about to give Jane a good shake, something caught in her peripheral vision of the opposite wall. She inhaled and turned her head towards the wall, "Jane, that mirror, on the wall, did you put that there?" Maura looked intensely at the mirror and saw something move. Her eyes widened.

Alarmed, and still staring at the mirror, Maura quickly reached out for Jane. When her hands felt nothing but silk, goose feathers, and Egyptian cotton, Maura let out a strangled yelp of surprise. When she looked down, Jane had disappeared.

"No!" Maura screamed. "Bring her back!" She pleaded.

Suddenly Maura was standing and uncontrollably angry. She shook her head, aware that she was once again confused and trembling.

Maura could feel her fingernails puncture the soft flesh of her palms as she squeezed her fists tight. She couldn't control the violent tremors of her body, or the fact that Jane was gone, or how she felt a torrent of emotions all at once. "Why?" she wondered. She honestly wanted to know.

And just like that, she realized she was dreaming.


	4. Chapter 4

Sleep began to lift and fade away slowly from Jane's mind and body like morning mist. She inhaled through her nose as she closed her mouth, and exhaled when she wiped the drool from her chin with the back of her hand. After that she haphazardly tossed her hair over her shoulder, yawned deeply, and opened her eyes. She was on auto pilot and was only slightly aware that she was yawning because she was waking from sleep, not because she was tired and needed more sleep.

Jane straightened her back and looked out the hospital room window. She dully realized that it was no longer midday and that night had slid its star studded blanket over the world. The room that she was in was middling in all ways possible, but especially in size. The darkness of the room seemed to swell and shrink the space to an unbearably claustrophobic size. Jane reached towards the side table and turned the lamp on. She removed the lampshade and let the light from the bulb soak into her eyes and blind them. After she'd looked away, a spot appeared whenever she blinked, the hazy outline of a light bulb with a brightly burning core. Jane closed her eyes and pictured the bulb until its brightness diminished from her mind's eye and she was left with nothing but darkness.

Jane frowned, opened her eyes and shifted them to the sleeping form on the bed. She could feel the tears rising but forbade them from falling. She was disappointed in herself. After resolutely subjecting herself to days of voluntary insomnia, she had somehow fallen asleep.

Jane pressed her palms to her eyes and shivered. She was cold. She pulled her sweater tight against her body, noting that she felt achy and stiff. The chair that she currently occupied was hard and uncomfortable. She had slid it as close as it could go to the bed so that she could awkwardly place her head on the mattress. That was her second best option. Her first option had, of course, been taken from her not long after the first few nights Jane had stayed in the room. She'd lain down to rest on the bed once and was promptly caught by the nurses. They had reprimanded her soundly before finally leaving. Jane understood, but she needed to be close. The chair would have to do.

Jane dragged her hands across her face in an attempt to stifle a yawn. She couldn't stop yawning. As she stretched her long arms out and up she yawned again. The yawn overcame her and sent a pleasant tremor through her body. As Jane moved to stretch her legs, something fell over in her lap. Her eyes traveled downward and landed on a cream colored plastic mug. She frowned at it and picked it up with a huff of annoyance. Something niggled in the back of Jane's mind. Following her growing assumption, Jane smelled the dry, dark, sticky residue that glazed the inside of the cup. "Of course," she thought. Jane began to mutter a string of curses before clearly emphasizing the word evidence.

She'd been tricked.

Jane thought back to her mother and her attempts to get Jane to sleep, eat, or leave the room. She remembered the strange looks her mother passed her way when she picked at her food, yawned, or rubbed the dark bags under her bloodshot eyes. She remembered the animated whispers that her mother conducted with Frankie, Tommy, Korsak, Cavanaugh, the doctor, and the nurses in the doorway. Then she remembered how adamant her mother was about Jane not drinking so much coffee, that she should have tea and a few pieces of toast every afternoon instead. After she finally caved into her mother's badgering, Jane realized, to her delight, that her mother would leave immediately after she ate and drank. From then on, she ate and drank as quickly as she could, thinking nothing of it.

Yes, Jane had been thoroughly tricked. Her mother had covertly taken advantage of her taxed mind and body by developing a routine, a routine that Jane wouldn't question the day that her mother actually decided to do something like drug her tea. Jane hadn't expected her to do such a thing. A small part of her was a little proud of her mother's deception, her mother's one-up over her.

Even though she was sleep deprived, she still felt that she should have known something was out of the norm. Jane thought about how whenever her mother brought her tea, she stopped nagging, became patient, too quiet, and left far too quickly for a helicopter mother. Her mother possessed some talents, but acting wasn't one of them. How could she not have seen it? That alone should have set off her gut, her detective instincts. Jane sat the cup on the side table and glared at it. Perhaps sleep was what she really needed after all.

No, Jane reprimanded herself, she didn't deserve sleep. Jane abruptly remembered how deeply sad she was, and that Jane's strong will should have triumphed over any drugs that her mother slipped into her tea. All in all, she shouldn't have gone to sleep, no matter what.

Jane knew that she was being hard on herself. People told her that she had nothing to do with it, that it wasn't her fault, but she should have been there for Maura, Frost, Korsak, Frankie, and all the others on duty that day. If only she'd figured everything out faster. Jane bowed her head. Everything was her fault, so it was only fair. Staying awake was the least that she could do.

Jane dragged her hands across her face and let out an exasperated sigh. She looked across the room at the couch and how it was loaded with bags. She assumed a few days' worth of clothes had been packed and brought in by her devious mother. Jane idly thought that her mother must feel guilty for drugging her, especially since Jane had told her that she could just recycle the two sets of clothes that she brought. Jane softly harrumphed. What good were an extra change of clothes when she didn't plan to leave the room anyway?

Jane yawned as she slowly stood and stretched her whole body. When she was finished, she focused her eyes on the person in the bed before her. She needed to make sure that she didn't miss any movements—if there were any. Jane regarded Maura as she slept and briefly wondered if she was dreaming. Jane sighed and ghosted her hand across Maura's face before actually stroking her cheek. She let her hand absorb the heat from Maura's skin before putting it to her own cheek. Jane felt comforted that Maura was warm and alive, not cold and dead.

Jane stared at Maura's face for a long time and smiled at how peaceful she looked. She wanted so desperately to have an actual conversation with Maura, but she knew that wouldn't happen, not yet. A one sided conversation that Jane hopped would urge her into wakefulness, would have to do for now.

Jane leaned forward and rested her head on Maura's shoulder. Jane's hair fanned out beneath Maura's chin and draped over her chest and shoulder. Jane hummed into her sigh. The room always made the color of her speaking voice sound harsh, so this time she decided to whisper tenderly. She wanted to show Maura how much she cared for and needed her best friend. She had already lost one person that she loved, she couldn't lose another.

Jane took a deep breath. "They told me things the other day, Maura, these doctors…things that you would understand…things that I don't understand." she whispered. "See, so you have to wake up and…and do your Google mouth thing. You need to explain it all to me." Jane paused, cleared her throat, and steeled her voice. "You have to wake up. Don't think that you can't. You just…don't even think about giving up. I won't let you give up, Maura—never! I won't let you. You hear me? I know you can hear me…I won't, so please, you just need to wake up. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise." Jane ended her rant abruptly, lifter her head and looked at Maura unblinking. She waited, hoping that she would flinch, or actually move, or do something to show that she had heard what Jane had said. When nothing happened, Jane stepped away from the bed and sat in the chair. She was prepared to cry all night and straight on till morning when a moment later, something did happen.

The soft beep, beep, beeps, which she had learned to ignore, became a single, loud, elongated beep that rang in Jane's ears. Jane clutched her hands to her chest in response to the noise. She knew what that sound meant; however, it didn't quite register completely in her brain because she couldn't believe it.

Jane unconsciously whispered breathily to herself. She could hear the urgent squeak and patter of feet across the linoleum floors. She could hear voices too, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. They sounded so far away and not so very important. Surely the voices were not as important as Maura. Jane didn't need to hear or understand them. Jane felt that she needed to focus all her attention on her best friend, her sister, her love. All Maura needed to do was open her eyes. Jane thought that if Maura just did that, the people that flooded into the room would know that they didn't need to be there. They would know that only Jane needed to be there.

Someone grabbed her and tugged at her arms and midsection. They pried her fingers loose from the thick plastic that covered the side rails of the bed. It hurt. She was hurting.

Jane wanted to tell them that they were hurting her; she wanted to yell at them that she couldn't leave Maura. She thought that she was, but they weren't doing what she asked.

To Jane, everything was surreal and was moving too fast. The distance that the people created between Maura and herself seemed to stretch wider than the Charles River and the harbor it bled into. They were making her leave. Didn't they know that they couldn't? She'd promised!

As Jane was being removed from the room, the world seemed to slow down. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on a floor in a hallway before a door. All was quiet, save for the unpleasant and uncontrollable sobs that escaped her mouth. She could hear herself babbling in between gasps of air, moans, and cries at the four people standing over her. They grabbed at her arms and legs. It felt as though they were trying to push her down and pull her up. "Didn't they know?" she thought.

Jane's tall, thin body sagged into a sea of hands and her head fell back. She looked up at the florescent lights in the hospital ceiling and thought about how bright they were, even brighter than the light bulb in the lampshade.

She was so tired. Her eyes felt heavy; the world gently narrowed into a sliver of light and then widened into a void of darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

The world wrinkled and faded into an infinite space that absorbed the abstract colors of Maura’s emotional turmoil and bleached them white. Her bed was no more, her lamp was no more, her room was no more, and Jane was no more. She was calm. All memories of color, of emotion, were obliterated from her mind, her world, save a stark white.

Maura examined her bare body and noted how it too was saturated in white. She supposed that she should feel new or pure, but Maura only felt strangely placid and awash with the nothingness of the space. She was a sorry pale outline of her true self.

_What true self?_

Doubt formed in Maura’s mind and a small splash of emotions momentarily colored her new world in a succession of black, grey, yellow, green, brown, and red, before everything was once again bleached white.

Her mind purred and a whirl of irrational emotions sprang fourth. She could feel a specter lurking behind the white nothing. It forced the space to press about her as it walked every inch of her mind, leaving behind it a well-trodden path for doubt and delirium to rove. The specter pressed further and burned into her the most irrational emotion of all: fear.  

Maura panicked. In order to calm herself, she closed her eyes. However, everything, to her dismay, remained white.

As her fear amplified, Maura felt as though she were being cast underwater. Fear washed over her in waves, submerging her, forcing her body to bob about the endless white.

She was drowning.

The space remained empty and white, but she could feel the water rising. She splashed and swam earnestly. She suddenly needed air, but there was no up, down, sideways, slantways, left, or right. As she realized this, her thoughts became erratic. Half words and inconclusive phrases began to swirl in her mind. “Until it isn’t…until it is no more…I think therefore…I think therefore…I am…not? Am I not? I am Maura. Maura, is Maura, is Maura, is—”

Abysmal fear continued to crash into her, dragging her under currents. It was difficult to think logically or to recall correctly. Her thoughts floated away. Maura opened her mouth and her lungs filled.

A lone thought sluggishly bubbled up from the depths of Maura’s mind, and she once again remembered that she was experiencing some sort of partially lucid dream.

She needed control.

Maura opened her eyes and color appeared a second time within the space, coloring it wildly as it moved about, eliminating the white in strokes and strobes of that same narrow selection of color. They were colors that distinctly reminded her of a certain terrible, yet beautiful horse and rider.

She floated as the waves ceased to crash against her.

A pale gray quarter moon rose above her, and the overflow of fear relented.

_It was all a dream. It is all a dream._

Maura imagined herself mantled in tightly woven emerald threads of logic, and a Tyrian purple and rust brown colored floor crafted with thoughts of stability to stand upon. She eyed the floor. It only stretched a little further than the length of her arms before it faded into the white.

_Was that the extent of her control?_

Maura concentrated and her skin came alive and adopted a dewy flush; her hair became strawberry gold; she breathed in and her heart beat fiercely. Gravity crept into the space and Maura was grounded. She stood in place like a sentinel.

Maura looked at her smooth palms and wondered about how she could wake. When no revelations came to her, she puckered her lips and blew softly. Maura watched, fascinated when the thin wisp of air expanded into visible breath. She realized that she was a little cold, or at least she thought that she was.

Maura frowned, and embraced herself as she took two steps to the right.

She unexpectedly found herself standing before a set of large, burnt, black trees covered in snow.

Maura blinked when she saw the mirror situated between the two trees; it was lovely and very odd. The mirror frame was silver-gilt and ornate. It had foliate decorations with a carved obsidian relief that depicted goats turning into rabbits and rabbits turning into horses. Maura thought that it meant something, but she didn’t know. _Shouldn’t she know?_

Maura peered into the mirror, but didn’t see herself in the reflection. What she did see however, were faint outlines and noises. She saw someone in a bed, a lone figure, and then a quick procession of other figures. She could hear the shouting and their movements. One struggled against the others and was taken away. Maura couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing and hearing—not at all.

She leaned forward and touched the mirror. The glass rippled before it froze solid, and a loud, high pitched wail echoed in the space.

Maura covered her ears and looked up. A bolt of lightning struck the trees causing them to crumble. Shocked, Maura felt her heart leap from her chest. She took a few steps back and looked down. Her carefully constructed Tyrian purple and rust brown floor disappeared. Her mantle slid from her body and fell to the floor, a pile of ash. Maura’s skin tightened and took on a purplish blue hue.

Maura cried, “Oh no! No, no, no…”

The mirror hung in space and cracked from side to side. The shards fell to the ground; they were as shiny and as colorful as petrified wood until they liquefied into a black pool. The pool traveled towards Maura with speed. It stopped right before her as though it were waiting for her permission to proceed.

Maura’s voice shook. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

The liquid slid under Maura’s feet and a pair of hands pulled her down.


	6. Chapter 6

Jane's mind was suspended in unconscious darkness, yet she found herself listlessly aware. Awareness and consciousness are complicated and funny things. Jane knew that especially because of her best friend: One evening Maura had read aloud excerpts from a book that she had randomly taken from her shelf when they couldn't decide what movie to watch. For some reason, that memory was part of a series of random moments with Maura that were scorched into her mind.

The memory was unmistakable; Jane had sat down and Maua had hovered over her and read what Nisargadatta Maharaj had to say about awareness and consciousness:

"Awareness is primordial; it is the original state, beginningless, endless, uncaused, unsupported, without parts, without change. Consciousness is on contact, a reflection against a surface, a state of duality. There can be no consciousness without awareness, but there can be awareness without consciousness, as in deep sleep. Awareness is absolute, consciousness is relative to its content; consciousness is always of something. Consciousness is partial and changeful, awareness is total, changeless, calm and silent. And it is the common matrix of every experience."

Jane had scoffed at the man's long-windedness. She declared that being conscious and aware were part of her job and that she was good at it. Maura had smiled at her and patted her head in a patronizing manner before putting the book away; after that, she'd suggested that they watch something educational.

All at once Jane's mind experienced a smooth transition from a memory steeped in the unwilling darkness of sleep into a memory sheathed in a dream.

The wild haired brunet found herself at Maura’s house, staring through her mind’s eye strait at her best friend. She felt like an omniscient third wheel. Reliving even a part of this moment made her more than uncomfortable. This was a regretful memory that Jane had thought of many times in her waking moments since the accident, she was less than amazed and a little perturbed that she would dream of it also.

Maura was saying something.

Jane hadn’t listed well the first time.

“How could you say that to me? To me, Jane…”

_Ah, Maura had looked very hurt._

“Because it’s true...”

_It had felt so true at the time._

“No. No it isn’t true, Jane.”

_I know that now._

“It’s pity.”

_I was hurt._

“I don’t pity you, Jane. I—“

_I thought it didn’t matter._

“I’m going to work.”

_I couldn’t face you._

“You’re on bereavement leave until the end of the month. You should wait until—“

_I was afraid._

Jane reached for the handle of the door, pulled it open, and quickly closed it behind her.

* * *

The soft click of a door closing stirred Jane from her slumber, her memory fuelled dream, and back to reality. Someone had crossed a short distance, sat beside her, and held her hand, squeezing it in tight, sporadic pulses.

_Who was it?_

She wanted to open her eyes and see, but she couldn’t; she was groggy; her eyes felt leaden and she didn’t have the energy to draw such curtains. The door opened and closed again, this time with a click and a rattle.

“Keep it down.”

“I don’t care, she needs to wake up so I can—” There was a pause and then a sigh. “They had to drug her, Ma. She needs to stop this.”

“I know, but if you were…”

“She isn’t the only one broken up over this whole…thing. It’s a real mess.”

“Just calm down, Frankie and give her some time. She’ll come around.”

“Fine, did she show up?”

“Yes, everyone is here now. I let them into the house.”

“Okay…okay, that’s good. Come on, let’s head over.”

“Alright, but someone should come back, maybe in an hour? We can decide who we think she’ll want to see first—“

The door gently clicked close. It was quiet now. She liked it better that way. Jane rolled off her back and onto her side with a groan. She massaged her eyes open and squinted at the sun rays that pierced through sheer curtains.

Jane tightly closed her eyes and thought about her dream, her memory form the day of the accident. That morning, she and Maura had argued. It was a tense time for everyone. Her father had made a disastrous return; Tommy started drinking again; they couldn’t find Lydia or Tommy Jr.; Maura’s lying, kidney demanding mother decided to infiltrate Maura’s life; her partner and good friend decided to move to Beijing to be with his girlfriend, Neda after they closed their last case; a freak accident abroad had taken Casey’s life; and after ten and a half weeks of pregnancy, she’d had a miscarriage. All of that had transpired and Jane hadn’t been able to process or compartmentalize. She’d taken her frustration out on Maura, who had been so lovely in her patience, support, and understanding.

She remembered it all. Everything after that argument was undeniably her fault. She couldn’t help but think that if she’s been a little calmer, kinder, patient, or empathetic that she wouldn’t have argued with Marua, and maybe everything else wouldn’t have happened after that. She would make it up to everyone and to Maura in particular.

Jane sat up and removed the intravenous lines and monitoring bits that were attached to her. She twisted out of the bed deliberately and stood straight, breathing deeply, after a slight wobble nearly tipped her over. The brunette recovered and crossed the small distance from her bed to the door. Jane twisted the handle gently, poked her head out the door, and observed—nothing. There was no one to hinder her and she was thankful for that as she made her escape from the room and into the hallway. Luckily a map on the wall gave Jane her exact location and the location of Maura’s room as well. She wasn’t far; she could make it; she could get back to Maura.

Jane walked as briskly as she could without breaking into a run. A few nurses, and one or two doctors passed by, but Jane kept herself calm, cool, and collected. She pulled her head down and stayed close to the wall so that anyone who saw her would think she was a recovering patient out on a short stroll.

She had walked a good distance before her surroundings became familiar. She was nearly there.

When she eventually came upon Maura’s room, the door was closed. Jane reached out and placed her hand on the handle, twisting it, and pushing forward until there was a slight crack, an opening in the door.

She was hesitating and she didn’t know why.

_Everything is fine._

A light, high pitched voice came from behind Jane and startled her, “Excuse me?”

Jane turned and looked at the woman. She was short, clad in scrubs, young, and painfully anxious. Jane turned away and ignored her, her mind focused on the crack in the door. All she needed to do was push the door fully open and she could be sure.

_She was already sure._

“Oh, I see. You’re her. The one everyone’s been…well, no matter…I’m sorry to say but—”

Jane flung the door open. What she saw made her back stiffen and her eyes darken.

The brunette slowly turned towards the nurse, her posture intimidating and defensive. For a long moment Jane simply stared at the short woman as she tried to control her emotions.

When Jane spoke, she was authoritative, lowly and harshly enunciating every word, “Where is she?”


	7. Chapter 7

The hands that aided Maura's descent into darkness gripped her ankles with the biting caress of rusted manacles. Downwards they pulled with the weight and unwavering speed of an anchor moving through the high dynamic viscosity of blackstrap. Down, down, down, into the fathoms of an obsidian ocean.

Despite the pain, a profound feeling of bliss overcame Maura as she was dragged through the darkness. She felt that nothing could disturb her newfound calm. Her mind felt keen and clear; a barrage of questions danced in her mind before she quietly projected them into the darkness:

Is there a bottom?

Will the bottom be like an ocean floor, full of lost things and terrible creatures?

How long will it take to get to there?

Is she tethered to something like most anchors?

If so, what was she tethered to?

_The inevitable…_

Maura grew bored with her questions. She was easing into a meditative state when some distant noise—unmelodious mumblings—filled her ears. The noise was relentless and Maura felt serenity flee from her. She couldn't tune out the noise; her mind reeled and her ears rang. Maura desperately wanted to regain some impression of tranquility, but she couldn't.

Then, like the deft sheers of a draper, Jane's strong, distinct, familiar voice cut through the noise, separating out words, creating patterns, creating phrases.

Jane's voice rose above and it mingled with a merrier version of her own voice.

"Did you ever have a best friend?"

"No."

"You'd tell me if you were a cyborg right?"

"No, I don't think I would."

_Jane…_

Maura opened her mouth and sharply gasped. Her tranquility was long destroyed. She felt anxious. A throbbing ache budded into a searing pain as the hands tightened the manacles around the tender flesh of her ankles. Maura cried out. She tried to curl her body, but the forceful pull kept her erect.

Maura's mind was overflowing; she felt on the verge of remembering too much all at once. Had she forgotten? Is that why she was remembering? Maura wasn't sure. She crossed her arms over her chest in a lame attempt to comfort herself. Her memories began to rapidly stack together and form into a twisted tower of misshapen stones, barely held together by moss encrusted roots.

As the stones stacked higher, the roots wove and grew more complex. Images began to flash in Maura's mind. The image of Jane shook her, triggering a memory.

Because it's true...

She wasn't going to let Jane ruin them.

You'll have to drag me away!

_Jane…_

Maura flinched. There was no order to the images or conversations, no sense of time.

The stones clashed as they were pulled together by roots and sounded like thunder. A great stone, far larger than the rest, with an odd mix of crevices, sharp and smooth angles, snapped many of the roots that attempted to lift it into place. But the roots were persistent; when they finally slid the stone in place, a surprising level of panic seized Maura.

A memory came fourth and Maura lost herself in it. She was there, in that moment, that memory, experiencing it, albeit mechanically. Every moment that she relived, every sound that she reheard, was anticipated, automated, and passionless. This was when she answered the call, so she did. This was when she inhaled and briefly held her breath, so she did. This was when she cried, so she did. This was when she shouted, so she did. This was when everything went dark, so it did. In her memory she was a spectator, a subdued participator in a stilted play, nothing more.

Maura was immediately taken away from the details of that memory, that horrifying experience, back to Jane and a conversation that they once had.

"I want to be buried at sea. Jane I want to return to the primordial soup that spawned us all…with nothing fancy…a small group of friends and family…a cello…there would only be one and it should play Bach's suite in G major…and then everyone can toast me with a nice bottle of Champaign before you throw me overboard."

Tears welled in Maura's eyes. She raised her hands toward her face only to realize that a soft, yet stiff bundle of something was tangled between her fingers. Maura closely observed the bundle and recognized it for what it was, a bridle made of tektite colored hair. Maura was mesmerized by the bridle, the intricate knots and braids; it was beautiful; she twisted it in her hands, and rubbed it against her face. Yes, it was hair.

A strong wave of heat brushed against Maura and colorful flames appeared around her. She gripped the bridle and clutched it to her chest. She couldn't allow it to be burned.

Maura was at a loss about what to do when an unexpected cool gust of wind swept through and momentarily weakened the flames. She widened her eyes when an eclipse of gray moths burst forth from the darkness and fluttered into the fire, burning, but somehow shielding her body.

Maura looked at the bridle in her hands and everything became clear. She found that she knew exactly what to do. She took quick hold of the reins and the darkness around her began take shape. She let the headstall pull forward; she adjusted to the dip beneath her; she saw a tousled mane spring up before her, and she felt a strong presence behind her. Maura's deathlike grip on the reins slackened as inky black arms extend, covered Maura's hands, and secured the reigns.

_Jane…_

At an impossible speed, out of the darkness, Maura traveled into piercing light.

* * *

Angela Rizzoli closed the door to Maura's house gently, a heavy sigh held fast in the back of her throat. She took slow steps towards that car where Frankie waited for her. She couldn't help but reflect on the gathering that had taken place only an hour before.

Angela and Frankie had contacted all of Maura's close friends and family. Constance had been the last to arrive since her plane had been delayed twice in Europe. Barry and Maura's father couldn't arrive in person, but they joined via Skype. Hope, Cailin, Lydia, Tommy, Tommy Jr., Susie, Sean, Frankie, and Vince had solemnly gathered in Maura's living room. They exhaustively discussed Maura and what to do about Jane.

They had all suggested their varying ideas, some silly and uniformed, some blunt and valid: Maura should be moved to an exceptional hospital. Maura should be home, monitored by the best specialists. Jane loves being a detective; she just needs a little convincing to get back to work; that will help her.

The debating and suggestions went on and on. In the end, it was decided that all decisions concerning Maura and Jane would be left to their mothers—Angela and Constance.

Angela thought back to Vince. She was surprised when he started talking about the accident. After he'd finished telling everyone what he knew, Angela realized that she'd barely known anything at all; she most definitely hadn't known any of the details. Eventually she decided that Vince's story and the accident itself didn't matter. All that mattered was that Maura lay in a coma and that Jane was possibly forever changed. Angela didn't want to dwell on the problems. She just wanted solutions.

Angela gripped the handle of her purse as Frankie pulled into a parking space at the hospital. As she waited for Frankie to open her car door, she sat still and whispered a little prayer. She took a deep breath and collected herself. She was a fiercely determined mother; of course she knew what to do about Jane.


	8. Chapter 8

Jane repeated herself, “Where is she?”

The nurse flinched and seemed to shrink in size, her voice coming out in a weak squeak, “I…Mrs.—“

“Detective.” Jane emphasized.

“Detective, quiet hours are right now…that’s why the doors are closed and the lights are dimmed in this ward and there isn’t a lot of staff around and—“

Without turning, Jane pointed at the door, “I don’t care about that! My friend was in there and now she isn’t.” Jane eyed the nurse and noticed that she looked on the verge of making a spectacle of herself. With a heavy sigh, Jane moved forward and gently placed her large hands on small shoulders. “Look…” Jane scanned the nurse’s name tag. “Nurse C-rin-ko…I can’t pronounce your name. “

“People just call me Nurse Krin, or even Nurse K—“

“Okay. Thank you. Look, Nurse Krin, I just… You have a best friend don’t you?” Jane paused, her stare intense. A moment passed and the small nurse finally gave a deep nod. “Okay, you understand. Well, my best friend means… She’s badly hurt and I’m concerned. I need—I would like to know where she is. Won’t you help me find her? Please?”

Jane’s ineloquent plea appeared to work. Nurse Krin’s demeanor changed; she became more relaxed. “We had to move her and a few other patients to another wing of the hospital. You’re friend’s mother requested a larger, private room. Oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! Umm…”

“It’s fine. I won’t tell. Just lead the way.”

Their trek down the hall was less than silent. Jane hadn’t thought that Nurse Krin would be this much of a talker. She tried not to be aggravated whenever the nurse babbled on about the most meaningless topics, in the most roundabout ways. The brunette didn’t even bother to ask about Maura since she wasn’t sure if the nurse could speak directly enough to answer her questions.

 Jane sighed. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized she’d fallen behind. Jane widened her steps. As soon as she caught up, Nurse Krin stopped, and Jane nearly ran into the back of her. “This it?” Jane asked as she surveyed the pastel pink door.

“Yes, it is. You can go in. I’ll—”

In a daze, Jane ignored Nurse Krin’s comments in order to focus on summoning of fortitude to eradicate her nerves. Once she felt sufficiently prepared, Jane cast a haphazard thanks over her shoulder as she gently opened the door and passed through.

* * *

Maura’s vision adjusted slowly as the blinding white light disappeared and was replaced with what she imagined to be the natural, yellow light of the sun. Maura couldn’t tell if her surroundings were slow to form or if she needed to concentrate and force her eyes to adjust. At the moment, everything that she spied was frustratingly unclear. Maura could only see where colors collided: stretches of pale blue against a bar of teal, verdant shades divided by thick bands of tan, and the unnatural black of tangled horse mane.

Such vague surroundings made Maura curious. She wanted to explore, but she found herself a little afraid to dismount from the horse. She couldn’t help but think about what would happen if she did. Despite her trepidation, Maura felt that there was something enthralling about her experiences thus far. Remembering them made Maura’s chest flutter and her vision blur further.

_She wanted._

As she sat atop the horse slightly bewildered, all of Maura’s past and present emotions came to her in an orderly queue, ready for her to identify them and affix mental totems—she felt alive. However, there was one feeling, at the back of the queue, that Maura couldn’t quite comprehend. It was an emotion that was elusive and almost indescribable, an impression of something unbelievably steadfast, as enduring and unmovable as a mountain.

_A beautiful emotion..._

Maura felt the horse shift in place, jarring her. It was only then that she realized that the shade was no longer behind her. What could she do in this place all alone? With that thought, Maura decided to cue the horse to walk forward; however, to her shock, the horse bucked. Maura sprung into the air and fell heavily onto well-trimmed grass. She winced and rolled onto her back, blinking rapidly as her blurry, colorful world came into focus. She was at Fenway Park. 

Maura frowned as she sat up and glared at the horse. She didn’t think that it was necessary to toss her. Maura rubbed her eyes and further acknowledged her surroundings. Yes, everything—Fenway Park—was well defined, the blur removed. Maura looked up and realized that her current position on the turf gave her an excellent view of the jumbotron. She stared at it, imagining the last Red Sox game that Jane had invited her to attend. She had so many fond memories of Fenway Park because of Jane.

Maura sat still as time within her dream of Fenway Park seemed to elapse quickly. The sun slid across the sky in a second, night formed, and the field was illuminated with the harsh, artificial glow of electric lighting. Maura felt the horse kneel and sit beside her, allowing her to rest snugly against its inky side. A low, almost indiscernible hum filled the air and the jumbotron came on. Words—poetry— in bold yellow on black flashed across the screen:

 “I know that rich and poor and all, / Foolish and wise, and priest and lay, / Mean folk and noble, great and small, / High and low, fair and foul, and they / That wore rich clothing on the way, / Being of whatever stock or stem, / And are coiffed newly every day, / Death shall take every one of them.”

“Villon,” Maura whispered shakily as images began to play.

Maura’s eyes widened when the interior of a car appeared on screen. A trembling hand reached out for a ringing phone. Then, a man beyond view loudly and erratically complained that it was too hot, before suddenly exclaiming that it was too cold. The man’s hand flashed forward into view and fiddled awkwardly with the air conditioning system. There were sobs; they were her sobs.

“Answer the phone!”

 “I—“

“Shut up! They keep calling. Answer it like normal lady or I’ll toss your phone and then some!”

“Dr. Isles.”

“Dr. Isles, I heard dispatch called you over forty minutes ago. We think the perp is still in the area. One of the uniforms said they saw your car. Where are you?”

I was on my way. I’m—” As Maura watched the screen, she could feel a phantom hand reaching to rest cruelly on the back of her head, gripping and tugging at her hair.

“Ah! Detective Korsak, I should mention that the sequence is 42 21 37N 71 2 59W.”

“42 21 37N 71 2 59W? Maura what’s—”

Yes. That’s correct. Tell Jane I—”

“Hang up and drive all the way up there. I know what you were trying to do! I’m not an idiot! I know! I know those were coordinates! Just like them…You’re just like them!”

Maura was transfixed by the night scene playing out on the jumbotron through here own perspective. Unfortunately, she wasn’t just a spectator without feelings; she could feel all of her varying emotions of dread and physical pain, including the horrible sensation of her arm being twisted behind her back as she was dragged to the end of the pier.

“Please, don’t. I—I’m not like them. You don’t have to do this! Oh, God!”

“Why won’t you just shut up? Everyone should just shut up!”

“Please! No!”

Maura saw the light from the moon shimmer on the top of the black water surrounding the pier; she could hear the sluggish crash of waves. If she wasn’t sure before, she was now. This was what had happened to her and she knew what would happen next; he was going to push her into frigid water. Maura gripped the field grass in frightened anticipation. She stared at the screen until there was a thump, a long silence, and then a splash. Maura’s breath hitched as the screen faded to black.

“Oh no. Am I… No, this can’t… Something isn’t right.” Maura mumbled at the screen.

Bold, yellow words on black appeared once more on the jumbotron screen, fixed and unmoving:

“You must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on.”

Maura released an astonished exhale. “Beckett,” she said with confidence.

Fenway Park began to distort into a hazy grayish black. Maura twisted her body rapidly as the pressure from the horse’s side disappeared. Her eyes slowly traveled upward from the empty space on the grass to a figure surrounded by blue-green flames. Its hand was extended, beckoning her to take it. As Maura took the outstretched hand, the sky folded and burst into a sea of stars. The stars shone brightly and illuminated a straight path through the oppressive gloom. 


End file.
